When am I going to stop about tomatoes? This year those red devils have gone on and on and on due to weird, hot, August-in-October weather. At least for folks who grew them. That would not be us. I just read about it.
I’m tired of tomatoes. Tomatoes as symbol. Tomatoes as the poster vegetable for all that is wrong with food in America these days. Lousy tomatoes. Them are the ones I have been encountering lately.
Homegrowns? Different story. I looked around the yard though, and didn’t find any.
“We don’t need any extra people around this house, Mom,” said my seven-year-old astutely and recently. “Just you and me is enough.”
I feel sorry that our household is not more lively, that he doesn’t have any siblings, that it isn’t bustling around here like it might be. Much of the stuff that qualifies as “family life” in my terms, is not happening.
And we didn’t grow tomatoes. For example. Gardens need TLC and we are a little short on that. We may not need any extra people, but we sure could use a gardener.
Speaking of the yard, we have kind of a big one. Could someone come play in it? Would someone like to plant it?
You can’t just send your kids out to play these days. Cause if you do, the neighbors will frown. And your kid won’t find any free electrons looking for a molecule to join. This is old news, of course, and I’m not going to reiterate the griping.
Tomatoes to eat, ripened on the vine? Of those I will never tire. Enough is never enough. Maybe one of these years we will try it. This was the year for watermelons. So easy. They are huge. You harvest five and everyone applauds.
We didn’t share. (Come to think of it, we don’t need any extra people around this house.)
But we might get some chickens!
The Lunch Encounter 